Page 17 of Sheikh's Accidental Pregnancy

“What do you think?”

“We shouldn’t. We don’t even like each other.”

“But we desire each other.”

He pressed a featherlight kiss to her neck, sending ripples of sensation all over her body. She let out a soft moan and shuddered against him. He kissed a trail down her neck, and Sara arched her back and dug her nails into his flesh. Before she knew it, her pants were on the floor, and Tariq was stroking her ass, exploring between her legs. She should stop him, but he was doing things to her insides that she’d only ever read about.

Tariq’s hands slid slowly around her hips and up to her waist, under her tunic top. She was suddenly glad she hadn’t worn the belt today. It would have made it harder for him to touch her this way. He drew the fabric up and over her head. He groaned at the sight of her chest.

She stood there in front of him in her bra and panties. He studied her as he unbuttoned his shirt. Sara raised her chin and refused to be embarrassed. She was suddenly glad she’d worn a set of matching lingerie from the boutique. The pale-blue lace pushed her breasts up more than her usual bras did, and she vowed to wear it more often from now on.

“Your body is beautiful,” Tariq said, dropping his shirt to the floor with her clothes. “Amir calls you adorable, but that’s not right at all. You are everything I shouldn’t want.”

Sara frowned at him. “You really know how to woo a woman.”

“I’m not wooing you. I don’t have the faintest idea why I desire you, Sara. And I’m not used to not knowing, but I always get what I want, and I want you. Now. Here.”

He wrapped one arm around her waist, and the other came up to unhook her bra. In one swift movement, he lifted her onto the conference table and stepped between her legs. He towered over her still, and he leaned down to rain kisses across her face. Tugging her bra completely off, he smiled appreciatively at her breasts.

He slid a hand up her side, gently cupped one breast, and leaned down to lick her nipple. At the feel of his tongue on her, Sara gasped and arched toward him. All thoughts of leaving were forgotten, and she stroked the back of his neck and closed her eyes. He groaned at her touch and continued to lave one nipple and then the other. Burying his face between her breasts, he kissed both before sucking one hard and biting. Sara squeaked and bucked at the heat that shot its way down her body to the hungry place between her legs.

Tariq pushed her back so she was lying on the table, then he licked and kissed his way down her stomach, pausing at her panty line. Sara watched him, curious and impatient for whatever would come next. She’d had boyfriends, and she’d fooled around with a couple of them, but she’d never gone all the way. Nothing they’d done had made her feel like Tariq did. She’d always called a halt from boredom rather than modesty or prudishness.

The way Tariq looked at her had her insides doing somersaults. She squirmed under his gaze. He slid his hands under her waistband and pulled her panties over her hips and down her legs. Lifting her legs, he kissed each instep before moving higher. He kissed his way up the inside of her leg and paused as he reached her mound, frowning at her pubic hair.

“Most of the women I’ve been with shave,” he commented, tugging a little on her hair. Sara jumped at the sudden pain. Somehow it aroused her more than she thought possible. “You smell like strawberries.” He groaned and dipped his head to take a taste.

At the feel of his mouth on her most private part, Sara grabbed the back of his head, encouraging him to continue. Tariq chuckled at her eagerness. The vibration from his voice created a buzzing along her clit. He continued to tease her, and she squirmed as the pressure built inside her. She was growing desperate for release.

“Tariq, please,” she moaned. “Quit playing around already.” Tariq continued to lick and nibble along her slit, and her whole body seemed to throb in time to the sensations inside her. “Tariq,” she moaned again. “Please.”

Tariq stood, and she faintly heard the sound of a zipper and the rustle of fabric. Sliding his hands around her hips, he placed one last kiss on her stomach before he scooped her up into a sitting position and pulled her to the edge of the table. She slid her legs around his waist and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Their mouths met with a kind of angry desperation, and in the midst of it all, he pulled her hard against him and impaled her. She screamed. He was huge, and her pussy tightened around him, pulsing and hungry. He thrust again, and she realized he hadn’t even been fully inside her. Another push, and finally, finally she was full. He groaned and stilled for a long moment, and her hips bucked against him involuntarily.

“Sara. Holy fuck.” He began to move, a slow drag in and out. Soon, Sara was matching each thrust with one of her own.

“More, Tariq. Fuck me, please.”

Tariq tightened his grip on her hips and thrust harder. He would leave bruises, and she didn’t care. Breaking the kiss, he arched, hitting a new, sensitive place inside her. She moaned his name.

“Say my name again,” he ordered, and she complied.

“Tariq…”

He reached between them to find her clit, and she nearly jumped off the table. Rubbing with his thumb, he began to push against it as she clenched around his cock. Sara cried out and arched against him. All that pressure inside her burst, and she screamed again at the electricity in her veins, the uncontrolled reaction of her body. Two more quick thrusts, and he was coming inside her, gushing into her. He held her against him as her orgasm milked him dry.

As they separated, Sara regarded him with sleepy eyes. Now what?

Tariq backed up and pulled up his pants. “You should get home. It’s late.”

All of Sara’s pleasure drained away at his dismissal, and when he turned his back to find his shirt, she scooted off the table, grabbed her clothes, and fled.

13

Aweek after her late night in the office with Tariq, Sara found herself sitting next to Sheikha Fiddah Botros in a car on their way to the Centre for Girls and Young Women. Fiddah had invited Sara to see the center she’d started decades ago to support girls and women going through rough patches, whether it be poverty, unexpected pregnancy, problems with school, or disability. Some of the women lived there temporarily, others came for specific programs or help. Still more came just to hang out with other girls.

Sara had taken part in charity events and fundraising at home, but she’d never gone to the agencies or organizations that did the work. She was looking forward to meeting both the staff and the clients.

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